Memories
by Jan918RTO
Summary: Remembering those who should never be forgotten.


**MEMORIES**

The Memorial Wall was several yards in length and shaped as a half-circle. It was constructed of shiny, black marble and stood seven feet high. Decorating the face of the wall was row upon neat row of six-inch wide, by three-inch high bronze plaques. On each of these plaques, standing in relief against the burnished background, was the name of a law enforcement officer for the state of Hawaii. Beneath the name was the agency for whom they worked, the date they began their career…and the date that career came to a tragic end.

Danny Williams walked slowly along the wall. Every few steps he would stop, painfully reach out, and reverently touch a plaque as memories of this person flooded his mind. So many colleagues and friends had been lost over the years. His reminisces were soft, contemplative.

"He was killed in a traffic accident. I remember a bunch of units were rolling on a gang fight call. A car with a bunch of teenagers ran the stop sign and he got broadsided. And thrown from the vehicle. " He paused, "When I got there he was lying on the ground covered with a sheet. These guys," he indicated two plaques, side-by-side with matching dates, both beginning and ending, "They went to the academy together and were killed in a helicopter crash while working on a drug interdiction case with the Feds."

His eyes traveled across the years and the names and he took another step. "She," he pointed to another name, "'CONNIE WORLAND' was killed by her partner. The shotgun went off accidently after a round was left in the chamber." He looked up at the taller man who stood silently behind him. "I guess that's one of the thoughts that was on my mind when we had our," he hesitated, "our disagreement about Joyce. (Episode-Full Fathom Five) "Connie was a great person. Her favorite color was yellow." His eyes met Steve's. "She left behind two teen-age daughters."

Moving forward another half pace, he stood at eye-level to one plaque. For several moments he didn't move as laughter, conversations and sound advice echoed through his memory. He swallowed as tears burned his eyes and trickled unbidden down his cheeks. Why? He had a family. There was no need for it. Tentatively, lovingly, he traced his finger over the letters whose gloss had been slightly dulled by the weather and salt air: CHIN HO KELLY HAWAII FIVE-0.

He felt a strong arm wrap comfortingly around him and squeeze his shoulder.

"I can't believe its another anniversary of losing him." He said softly.

"I know, Danno." The response was quiet, solemn.

"I still can't get used to it. I know life moves on, but missing him never goes away." The blue eyes scanned the names that surrounded him, "I've never forgotten any of these people. Even the ones I didn't know."

The hand squeezed his shoulder again.

"We never forget them, Danno. Remembering them, learning from their actions, their circumstances, even their mistakes, is how we save other lives. Their lives, their deaths, will always have meaning."

McGarrett indicated another plaque. "He was killed on a narco raid. If he'd been wearing a bullet proof vest he might have lived. After that happened, vests were required on all raids. His sacrifice," Steve gently tapped the plaque, "Undoubtedly saved other lives."

Steve McGarrett looked down at his youngest detective. Danny was still on sick leave as he recovered from injuries sustained while saving the life of another officer. Considering they were surrounded by the names of those who had lost their lives in the line of duty, Steve soberly reflected on how close things could have come to that reality.

Danny had just gotten off work and was on his way home, when he noticed an HPD unit on what is so glibly referred to as a routine traffic stop. Slowing down, he prepared to hold up four fingers in the universal, cop sign language of Code 4…No further assistance needed. A matching response from the other officer would indicate that all was well, but a shake of the head would let him know that some back-up would be appreciated. In this instance, the detective didn't need to ask whether or not it was Code 4 when he saw a highly agitated Pacific Islander who was built like Diamond Head launch himself, screaming, from the car and send the surprised officer sprawling.

Slamming to a stop, he threw the car into park and ran to pull the yelling behemoth away from his victim. The circumstances were such that he could not safely take a shot without endangering either the officer or the growing group of by-standers. Attempting to drag the suspect off the other officer was like trying to man-handle an enraged King Kong.

As if suddenly aware that someone else was there, the suspect wheeled around and, with a giant, meaty hand, grabbed Dan by the front of his suit coat and smashed him in the face before throwing him on the ground and stomping on him. It all happened so fast.

The dazed HPD officer struggled to his feet and slammed the suspect across the back and sides with his baton in an attempt to get him away from the downed Five-0 detective, but the blows were as ineffective as if he were using a fly swatter. Staggering back to his car, he grabbed the mic and requested immediate assistance, officers involved in a fight, then flung himself bodily against the huge man, finally knocking him away from Williams. The two men rolled on the ground as the deranged man continued to screech like a banshee. The sound of sirens, followed by squealing brakes and running feet could not have been more welcome.

In the end, it took six HPD officers and one livid Five-0 lead detective to subdue and handcuff the suspect whose lack of response to pain led to the correct assumption that he was on PCP. To be on the safe side, he was double cuffed and shackled prior to transportation to the hospital for assessment and booking.

Danny Williams had not moved since he had been freed of his assailant. He could barely breathe and felt like every rib he had was broken. As it turned out, he was not far off. He spent the next week in the hospital recovering from the immediate trauma of eight broken ribs and a torn lung. After his not-what-Doc-wanted-to-do release, he was staying with McGarrett until he had the strength and mobility to live on his own again.

Being dependent grated against his innate self-sufficiency, but he knew he couldn't do things alone, at least for a while. Steve had to help him dress, which he found acutely embarrassing, but it was either that, go to a nursing home, or go naked, and he found the last two options even less appealing. Movement was limited and extremely painful so, until he was more healed, he would remain Steve's guest.

The sacrifice was typical of something Dan Williams would do, what most cops would do; putting the safety of others before their own.

Steve squeezed the shoulder under his hand and glanced back at the last name of the SWT officer who was killed on the narco raid, 'WILLIAMS'. He shuddered and tightened his grip as he helped Danny down the wide steps from the Memorial Wall.

"C'mon kiddo, let's go home."

_In memory of my Academy classmates, Deputies Jim McSweeney and Roy Chester; Deputies Jim Foote and Jack Williams who were always fun to tease; and Deputy Connie Worland, my colleague and friend. I can still hear you laugh. I'll never forget you. _


End file.
